“Possum” and our Families on Moore – BETWEEN THE TRACKS

Our little street on the island is straight and short, unremarkable, ordered with weathered signs that tourists breeze past, their rental carts kicking up dust from our deliberately unpaved road. We prefer the gravel’s gentle percussion, nature’s way of saying: breathe, notice, be here now.

As twilight drapes itself across our homes, the neighborhood cats appear like ambassadors of the evening, crossing property lines with diplomatic immunity.

Little Art, not yet four and one of our street’s youngest residents, often races over the loose stones, trailing incomprehensible toddler monologues behind him.

Meanwhile, we adults follow at measured paces, pausing to trade quiet pleasantries whenever we encounter one another.

We’re a constellation of souls here, each porch light a star in our small galaxy. When we gather mid-street, cats weaving between ankles, we’re not just neighbors but keepers of each other’s stories.

Among our wild neighbors—the shy opossums, determined turtles, and midnight-raiding raccoons—lived our beloved “Possum,” Bob and Sandy’s sweet-natured cat who lost her sight too young.

Named perhaps for the “Possum Queen” (though she formed an unlikely friendship with an actual opossum), she moved through darkness with remarkable grace.

The dogs and cats who share our homes become our heartbeats. They are our children. There’s Lit Kitty, Calista, Rip, and others whose names escape me.

Their absence leaves holes in our homes that echo.

I learned this watching my mother in Princeton, Kentucky, where neighbors called her the “Cat Lady of McLin Street” behind cupped hands. She’d coax skeletal strays with saucers of milk on our back step, nurse them to sleek contentment, then collapse into herself when they inevitably disappeared or grew still beneath her gentle hands.

Possum’s life, though brief, overflowed with love—a testament to what matters most in this fragile world. I imagine her spirit still here, playful and curious, in this place where the impossible feels merely inevitable.

On our little street, kindness is our most cherished currency.

-30-

Gavin Murphy of Tybee Island, Georgia, calls BETWEEN THE TRACKS – Eloquent and Uplifting.   Darryl Armstrong seems to attract eccentric characters like a magnet. They, and more ordinary salt-of-the-earth people, populate this collection of folksy short stories set in the South. The stories, for the most part, are short stories and come together like a tapestry of the author’s life experiences, sometimes happy, sometimes tragic. There are cats and dogs too. They play an important role in healing old wounds by providing unconditional love in exchange for a cozy place in front of the fireplace. Pipe smoking is a sacred ritual in Armstrong‘s world. Armstrong‘s way with words pulls at the heartstrings, at once sentimental yet eloquent, and never flinching from the hardscrabble lives depicted. – 5-STAR REVIEW BETWEEN THE TRACKS FROM A VERIFIED Amazon purchaser.

Read inspiring stories of faith, resilience, and love in Darryl Armstrong’s newest collection of short stories – BETWEEN THE TRACKS.

We recommend you get asoft-cover SPECIAL EXPANDED EDITION WITH MORE ILLUSTRATIONS AND PHOTOGRAPHY at Books.by/Darryl-Armstrong  for $19.99 with FREE SHIPPING (7-10 days delivery).

But if you want faster delivery, you can get it at Amazon in soft, hardbound, or e-book.

AND TYBEE ISLAND RESIDENTS CALL ME AT 270.619.3803, AND I WILL PERSONALLY DELIVER YOU A SIGNED COPY.